Vigil
by Azolean
Summary: That's when Lorne's eyes opened again, boring into him. He must have seen something of Sheppard's own terror in there, though, because his determined expression softened. "It's okay, John. Just tell my sister…" "Tell her yourself, Evan, 'cause we're getting you out of here!" he cut in when Lorne stopped to cough up more blood. With a sardonic grin, Lorn replied, "Yes, sir."
1. Prologue

**_A/N:_** _To give you all an idea of what kind of sadist the Major Lorne in my head is, I woke up at 06:30 (about 4 hours before my usual wake up time) with a scene playing in my head that he put there. I doze off. It starts up again with even more detail at 07:30. Then he makes me watch it again at 08:30 and again at 09:30._

 _All of this was on a work day, mind you._

 _So I drag my exhausted butt out of bed early and head to my computer to write out this one little scene he was demanding. Oh no, that's not good enough. He spends the rest of the day demanding I come up with a story to go with it. Great, lovely. Buckets of fun. So, here I am twelve hours after I started writing this and ready to put it up here. I'm almost willing to hire an assassin to take him out at this point. Anything so I can just get one good night's sleep._

 _I hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

 **Prologue**

Sheppard stared down at the man in the bed. He was hooked up to so many monitors, tubes, and equipment he almost didn't seem human anymore. Watching the chest rising and falling in that steady, controlled rhythm Colonel Sheppard took in the inhumanly pale features of his second in command, Major Lorne. What was left of the man, anyway. Looking at him now, it seemed there was nothing left of the lively, cheerful man he had known. And, if Doctor Beckett was right, there might not be.

He just couldn't reconcile this image of Major Lorne to the one he had seen only two days before. Retelling the story of an acutely embarrassing off-world incident for one of his teammates, the man had been laughing almost hard enough to fall out of his chair in the mess hall. So had most of the rest of his team and everyone else gathered to listen. But now there was just him, lying there, so frighteningly still. For a brief moment Sheppard wanted to go over there and shake the man, demanding he wake.

In the silence of the infirmary's ICU, the ventilator and other equipment seemed almost too loud. With each continued hour Lorne spent in that coma the likelihood of the man they all knew returning seemed less and less likely. He knew he was drawing attention, just standing there staring. But he didn't care. He didn't know what else to do. For once he was helpless to do anything. Even Beckett was helpless. It was up to Lorne now, if he was still in there. And he had less than day before all life support would be cut off.

Sheppard still recalled those first, heart stopping minutes that had lead up to this.

" _Hang in there, Major. We'll get you back to Beckett, and he'll have you patched up in no time."_

" _Yes, sir."_

Sheppard could still see the terror in the Major's eyes, even if not his expression, once they both realized where he'd been hit. But the man gave none of it away in his voice. He had absolute faith in his commanding officer. That faith never wavered, even later when they both knew how this would end.

 _"It's okay, John. Just tell my sister…"_

 _"Tell her yourself, Evan, 'cause we're getting you out of here!_

 _"Yes, sir."_

Silently cursing himself for the hundredth time since this whole mess started, Sheppard turned away. He just couldn't anymore. He knew he would suffer for the lack of sleep tomorrow as his duties continued unabated. But he couldn't spend another night in his quarters tossing and turning, unable to get the image of Lorne in the ICU out of his head.

He was so preoccupied with those memories, that he didn't even realize where he was until he found himself standing outside the door. He knew why he was here. He just didn't want to admit it to himself. For a while he just stood there. He couldn't even summon the anger that had buffered him for this long. Not even thinking at all anymore, he overrode the door lock to Major Lorne's quarters.

And there it was, staring back at him.

Sheppard couldn't see anything else in the room. He was so fixated on that one object, nothing else existed. It was the envelope. He'd known for a long time that that was Evan's way of dealing; his preparation for what they all expected, but hoped would never happen. Everyone had something. This envelope and the three sheets of paper inside were Evan's.

Taking a deep breath to steady his hands, John opened the unsealed envelope. All he could hear was his heartbeat as he held his breath, standing there, reading Lorne's neat handwriting on the first page. He knew he was supposed to. He knew that's why Evan had mentioned it, even if there had been too much blood in his lungs by that point to finish the sentence. Reading the contents now, he understood. A part of him had always known the man he trusted with his life kept these papers. A lot of people did. But most never shared them; never dared to share that part of themselves with anyone, in life or in death.

 _I'm not sure who's reading this now, but I wanted to start by saying thank you. I'm assuming I'm either gone or incapacitated, but it doesn't matter. All that matters right now is that you read these. Remember them, because I can't anymore. I just wanted—_

 _No,_ John thought to himself, refusing to do this now.

There was still a chance. His friend and SiC could pull through this. He wasn't going to give up on the man, yet. Carefully he folded the papers and then slammed the envelope angrily back down on the bedside table. Leaving the bedside table lamp on, he exited the room.


	2. Yes, sir

**Chapter One**

"You're joking, right?" Lorne asked incredulously, leaning on the back of the chair in the conference room.

"I wish I was, Major," Sheppard replied, sharing a look with Doctor Weir.

The Major dropped his head with a groan. He hadn't even had a chance to change out of his jeans and paint-covered red flannel. He knew he shouldn't have trusted his CO. Every time the Colonel even hinted at something like downtime for his team all hell broke loose. At least this wasn't as bad as he'd feared when he was first called in to the meeting room. Getting over it, he began to consider.

"Lieutenant Shingleton is up for it, but then he always is when it comes to anything archeological," Lorne finally told them. "Lieutenant Keane…eh, he'll be disappointed, but I'm pretty sure he didn't have any plans today, anyway. Lieutenant Cayton…I think he's on the mainland, today."

"Well, you've got one hour. Grab someone to fill in for Cayton, and we'll meet in the gate room in an hour."

Standing up straight, Lorne replied, "Yes, sir." As he turned to leave, a thought occurred to him. "I'm guessing Captain Daher's team caught the Pegasus flu?"

Weir frowned darkly at Sheppard making Lorne's eyebrows go up in surprise. It must have been only recently she'd caught on to the joke. Sheppard patently ignored the look and explained, "They were attacked by some sort of squirrel-like creature yesterday on what we thought was a milk run. Beckett says they'll be fine, but wants to keep them under observation for a couple of days in case of infection or disease."

"Understood, sir."

Once his back was turned, Major Lorne couldn't help the grin. It had been the Cursed Colonel, as he sometimes thought of his CO, which had started the joke in the first place. Somewhere along the way Sheppard had made a wise-crack to Beckett when his infirmary was rather full of minor injuries at that they should start calling his demand for extended observation the "Pegasus Flu". Beckett had not exactly taken offense to this, but didn't really see the humor in it, either. Then again, Lorne had come to know that the doctor pretty much shared the Major's opinion of the Colonel's very strange luck. It seemed like almost every time he deemed mission, a day, anything as "easy" it would turn out anything but. Then again, he had the kind of luck that kept him and his team alive time and time again when it seemed impossible; so it all sort of balanced out, for him and his team, anyway.

~o~o~o~

An hour later Teyla, McKay, Sheppard, Ronon, Lorne, Shingleton, Keane, and Doctor January watched as the event horizon formed. The briefing had been quick and relatively painless, considering McKay had been present. According to an earlier recon team, M5Y-192 had some interesting ruins and an unknown energy source. After the initial survey a few weeks ago, plans had been laid to investigate more closely. Of course, if it involved an energy reading of any significance, it just had to be the great Doctor Rodney McKay investigating it; because no one else was good enough. Nonetheless, Major Lorne had opted to bring another physicist just to tweak the man. In addition, he already had his own team's Lieutenant Shingleton, who specialized in archeology.

As the event horizon settled into its usual watery surface, Major Lorne figured there were worse ways to spend what should have been a day off. Maybe if he was tagging along with Sheppard's team it really would be a quick in and out mission. Following along behind the rest of them, Lorne refocused his attention on his new surroundings.

Walking up behind the others, Major Lorne always felt that initial tension of expecting literally anything when first stepping through the gate. But, after a few seconds, when nothing threatening happened, he and the others began to relax. Following the instructions given by McKay relayed from his magical, all-knowing tablet, they headed down the path away from the gate. That's when Lorne began to feel the tension again.

At first all he saw was the path, and dense forest all around with massive trees. It appeared to be early afternoon and plenty of animal activity. It was utterly normal, calm, and even tranquil. But the tension in his gut and twitching between his shoulder blades screamed alarms. That's when it struck him. This was a path. On a planet that had been abandoned possibly millennia ago, there shouldn't be a well-worn path. Major Lorne was no woodsman, but he couldn't ignore his gut feeling; the same feeling that had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Signaling to Lieutenant Keane to watch their rear, he jogged up to the front of the group where McKay and Sheppard were arguing quietly over something on the tablet. By the sound of how quiet they were being, they had sub consciously picked up on whatever was wrong here, too.

"Colonel, we need to head back," Lorne whispered.

"Yeah, I know. This path is too new, too…"

"Yes, sir."

"But I'm telling you, it's just the energy signature. It's probably making you paranoid," Rodney said, irritation clear in his voice.

Sheppard considered this, but tossed it out quickly with a shake of his head. "No. We're—"

That's when the first shots rang out from the direction they had been headed. Now they knew what was so wrong. They were not alone. Grabbing McKay, Sheppard jumped over a fallen tree for cover. Reflexively shooting in the general direction of the shots, Lorne hesitated just long enough to ensure the rest of the group managed to take cover on either side of the path before following after Sheppard. Certain now they were dealing with the Genii, they knelt behind the tree trying to take aim on the shooters.

Kneeling to Colonel Sheppard's left with McKay on Sheppard's right, Major Lorne silently cursed the green uniforms. Their attackers were practically invisible in the forest. Worse, they were actually within sight of the gate and no one was close enough to dial for backup. Lorne listened as Sheppard got location reports from the others. Ronon and Keane were both approximately twenty meters from the DHD. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Sheppard flashed Lorne a grin.

"Loser brings the beer?"

Lorne laughed. "You're on."

"Ronon, Keane, see if one of you can make your way to the DHD. Loser team buys the beer."

For a few minutes it was just back and forth firing, each side trying to take out the other. But, knowing Ronon and Keane were slowly making their way to the DHD to radio for backup, it was just a matter of holding their own, for now. They had no idea how many were out there, or if the Genii already had reinforcements coming. All they could do realistically was try not to use up all their ammo before help arrived.

His P90 clip empty, Lorne turned around calling out his reload, and putting his back to the log. Catching sight of movement, he glanced up just in time to see a Genii solder drawing a bead on Sheppard's back from less than fifteen feet away. His gun empty, the Major reacted reflexively. Dropping his P90, he threw himself at the Colonel, shoving him sideways into McKay. This caused Sheppard to spin around nearly putting half a dozen bullets into Lorne; or so he thought. Still not quite comprehending what was happening, he reflexively sent his last few bullets from his current clip into the Genii soldier dropping him on the spot.

A heartbeat later Colonel Sheppard's mind caught up to what had just happened. Major Lorne was laid out across his lap. Dropping his P90 he reached for Lorne's neck, already knowing what he was going to find. Before he could do so, though, the Major groaned and reached across his chest with his left arm. Releasing the breath he'd unconsciously been holding in fear of what he would find, Sheppard tried to still his trembling hands.

"Where're you hit?" Sheppard asked, his training and experience kicking in.

"Under the right arm," Major Lorne grated out through clenched teeth, "chest cavity."

Already Lorne was trying to push himself up only to realize he couldn't. Somewhere between the shock of the gunshot wound and realizing he was somehow still alive, he missed the fact that he couldn't feel anything below his shoulder blades now.

"What is it?" Sheppard asked, helping the Major move upright by supporting his shoulders.

The terror was clear in Lorne's wide blue eyes, but the expression on his deathly pale face betrayed none of it. "I can't feel anything below the shoulders, sir. Lean me back, and I'll watch our six."

Hefting him by the vest, Sheppard did just that. Reaching for his P90, Lorne began to reload. Though his hands shook slightly, his expression had turned hard. Sheppard patted him on the shoulder.

"Hang in there, Major. We'll get you back to Beckett and he'll have you patched up in no time."

"Yes, sir," Lorne replied, his expression still hard.

Turning back to the fight on their hands, he caught McKay's pale-face look. He'd seen the whole thing, but had been busy covering them. Sheppard just gave him a frown that indicated the scientist needed to keep his focus. Not two minutes later Colonel Sheppard heard the most beautiful sound ever. As the gate activated he keyed on his radio. In seconds he'd relayed their situation and was confident they'd be out of there soon. Turning back to his SiC he struggled to put on a confident grin as he took in the sight of Lorne coughing as he struggled to breathe. Already blood stained the Major's lips.

"See, Major? We'll be out of here in no time."

Coughing fit over, Lorne gasped a few times trying to focus. "Just worry about getting our teams home, Colonel."

"Yes, sir," Sheppard shot back sarcastically with a smirk. The lack of response from Lorne was downright unnerving.

For a while Sheppard had his hands full just trying to keep back the encroaching Genii. Obviously there had been more than he'd estimated originally. Either that, or they had a base somewhere nearby where they were getting reinforcements. Either way, it was looking less and less like they were going to get out of there in the next few minutes.

When the gate finally lit up again and more heavily armed Marines and Airmen came pouring through the gate, Colonel Sheppard couldn't help the relieved smile. He would have Lorne out of here and into Beckett's tender care shortly. Turning to the Major beside him, he very nearly dropped his P90. The man was clearly struggling to breathe, to even just stay upright. From somewhere he had produced a rag that was now soaked in blood that he had coughed up.

"Just hang in there, Lorne. Help is here. We're almost out of here."

Struggling to focus as he picked up his P90 again, and still trying to make himself useful watching their backs, Lorne kept his eyes out deliberately away from his CO; but Sheppard could see the mingled determination and terror still in those blue eyes. "Sheppard…envelope…bedside table…" Whatever else he was about to say was cut off with another coughing fit. He very nearly doubled over.

Dropping his P90, Sheppard reached over to support him before he fell over. "That's it, Lorne. Just breathe. Just focus on breathing. We're almost out of here."

Leaning back against the tree again, Lorne nodded slightly doing just that. After a moment, certain he wasn't going to fall over, Sheppard started to back off going for his P90. That's when Lorne's eyes opened again, boring into him. He must have seen something of Sheppard's own terror in there, though, because his determined expression softened.

"It's okay, John. Just tell my sister…"

"Tell her yourself, Evan, 'cause we're getting you out of here!" he cut in when Lorne stopped to cough again.

With a sardonic grin, Lorn replied, "Yes, sir," with as much energy as he could muster; which was something just above a whisper.

A split second later the Colonel's attention was drawn away as a grenade went off a lot closer than he would have liked. Turning his attention back to the fight and the radio chatter that gave him positions and updates, he keyed on his own mic.

"Ronon, I've got a man down. I need you over here. We're going to need to make a run for the gate."

He never even heard Ronon's affirmative reply as he glanced back to Lorne. Sheppard felt his blood freeze in his veins as a spike of fear that ran through him when he realized his friend and SiC was no longer breathing. Forcing the trembling in his hands to stop, he checked Lorne's neck. The fear turned to rage as he realized the man still had a heartbeat. And there was no way in hell he was going to let the Major die now; not when they were this close to help.

"You're _not_ doing this to me, Evan," he growled, unzipping the Major's tac vest and throwing it aside. He laid the man out and began chest compressions as all else faded to background noise. "Damn it, Evan! Breathe, damn it! Son of a bitch, you're not doing this to me!"

Sheppard couldn't remember the last time he was this thoroughly pissed off. But he knew if he let it go for even a split second, the terror that had gripped his heart threatening to stop it earlier would take over. He lost track of time as he alternated between breathing and compressions. His vision had narrowed to this one thing. Over and over he just kept going. It wasn't until Ronon leaned over and scooped up the Major that Sheppard finally came back to his surroundings. Picking up his P90 and shouting to McKay they followed Ronon to the gate in a mad dash.

Sheppard watched as Ronon ran to the side where Beckett waited with a team. He dropped Lorne on the gurney and backed off. Still in something of a state of shock, Sheppard watched Beckett cutting off Lorne's shirt; only barely registering the fact that the rest of the teams were coming through the gate, now. He didn't even realize he had his fists clenched as he watched Beckett and the rest of the team working. He only caught bits and pieces of what was going on, but he knew it wasn't good.

"…v-fib…crash cart…clear!"

Now the rage was gone. There was just the terror as his vision again focused on that one point. Not even realizing it, the Colonel's expression mirrored Beckett's fiercely determined one. He continued to watch, all of them did, as Beckett struggled to bring back the Major. Time slowed to a crawl. While one part of his brain was counting the people coming through the gate, the other part was too focused on Lorne to take stock of their conditions. Right now, all that mattered was the dead man lying on that gurney. Sheppard didn't even realize he was holding his breath until the gate shut down, shocking him back to his surroundings.

Turning around, he noted that everyone was accounted for. A few flesh wounds appeared to be the rest of it. He watched Beckett's other personnel swarming around the wounded. By the time he turned back around, Beckett and his team were nearly out of sight down the hall, someone still doing chest compressions as Lorne had yet to breathe again.


	3. The Unknown

**Chapter Two**

Colonel Sheppard couldn't remember the last time he felt so completely worn out. It wasn't just the physical exhaustion or the come down from so much adrenaline, either. As he sat at his desk finishing the initial report of today's hellish mess of a mission, he admitted to himself it was much, much more than the physical reaction. Though he would never share this with another living soul, today had been an emotional roller coaster he had hoped to never live through again. For a while there, he had been certain his devil-may-care façade had been shattered as they watched Major Lorne being dragged back from death's embrace.

But, if anyone noticed, they hadn't said anything.

And, even now, he wasn't sure if his friend was going to live. As he sat back to read over his report, he found himself cursing the Major; if for no other reason than it was easier to deal with the pain when he was angry. He hadn't intended on making friends, here or anywhere else; especially after his tour in Afghanistan. But he had, and this was the price he paid for his command position. He knew all too well that the same people he called friends could eventually go out on a mission and never come back. Or come back damaged beyond repair. And it was solely his responsibility. He accepted that.

Realizing he'd been staring at the report for several minutes now and seeing none of it, Sheppard slammed his laptop shut. Beckett had been in surgery for hours now. He knew the doctor would radio him as soon as he was out of surgery…or Lorne was dead. But he just didn't know what else to do with himself right now. Sleep wasn't an option, no matter how exhausted he felt. Time to use the tried and true Sheppard method of waiting. He was going to park his ass right outside the infirmary and he wasn't going anywhere until he knew one way or another.

Until then, the rest of his life can sit on hold.

~o~o~o~

The update came a lot sooner than he expected. He'd only been sitting for a few minutes when Beckett finally came out, his expression as exhausted and ragged as Sheppard felt. Though it was relatively early at night, it had seemed like days since Lorne had disappeared into the depths of the hospital ward of the infirmary.

"He's alive, Colonel," was all Beckett said, sitting beside Sheppard with a huge sigh. After a moment he explained, "I've radioed Elizabeth. She should be here shortly. Was there anyone else I should update? I would rather explain to everyone at once."

"No," was all he could think to say sensing there was much more to 'he's alive' than Carson had told him.

Beckett leaned over, planting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. It wasn't long before Doctor Weir came striding up the hall. The neutral expression on her face was belied by the lines of tension around her green eyes. She, too, had come to appreciate the Major's presence around Atlantis; though Sheppard wouldn't call them friends. Only then did it dawn on the Colonel that there was definitely more going on here, if he was calling in Weir and not just himself.

The Major's directives listed Weir as his proxy.

 _Damn,_ Sheppard cursed to himself. _Not good._

"How is he, Carson?" she asked, pulling up a chair to sit across from the doctor.

Taking a deep breath and scrubbing his face as if to scrub away some of his tiredness, he blinked a few times trying to focus. "I don't have to tell ya, it's not good. I called ya in because of his directive."

"I thought as much," she said, glancing to Sheppard for a moment.

"The thoracic surgeon, Doctor Derleth, is finishing up now. Major Lorne was in cardiac arrest for over three minutes that we know of. He's in a coma, now. Though that is not uncommon, there could be more serious consequences due to the amount of time. I don't need to remind either of you that permanent brain damage sets in at four minutes. We've lowered his body temperature to help reduce the damage. Even so, we won't know the extent of the damage unless he comes out of it. But, there is the very likely possibility that this could be a persistent vegetative state."

Carson still staring at the floor, let that sink in.

"Understood. What else can you tell us, Carson?" Weir prompted gently.

Heaving another sigh, the doctor sat back staring somewhere between his knees and at the floor as if struggling to remember, simply because he was so tired. "The bullet entered between his fifth and sixth ribs. It grazed the fifth rib slowing it down somewhat, and likely saved his life. It altered the trajectory enough that it missed his heart, but turned inward damaging his inferior vena cava and ricocheting off his spinal column, before lodging in his left lung. Essentially, his right chest cavity filled with enough blood to completely collapse his lung, a hemothorax. His left lung had collapsed due to a pneumothorax."

He rubbed his forehead absently as if suffering from a headache, which he probably was, before turning to actually face them. "We were able to repair the damage to his lungs and vena cava. There are multiple chest tubes, for now to help with drainage and to relieve the pressure on both sides of his chest. There doesn't appear to be any severe damage to his vertebrae or spine at this time. We'll have to asses that more closely later. For now we have him on a ventilator to assist with breathing. If he lives through the next seventy-two hours, he may survive. If he emerges from the coma in the next week to two weeks, he may even make a full recovery."

For a few seconds, the three of them sat in silence. None of this sounded very promising, and no one wanted to voice what they were all thinking. Finally it was Weir who broke the silence.

"What's your recommendation, Carson?"

He shook his head sadly. Obviously he wasn't feeling very hopeful. "Wait. That's all I can say for now. We wait to see if he lives through the next several hours to couple of days. Then we wait to see if his...condition is permanent. You have his directive, Elizabeth. You're his proxy. How long we wait is up to you."

"What are you saying, Doc?"

For a moment Beckett and Weir shared a look. "Tell him," Beckett urged her softly.

Weir stared down at her folded hands for a moment before finally meeting Sheppard's steady, worried gaze. "Aside from designating a proxy and a secondary proxy, Major Lorne's advance directive states that he doesn't want to be on life support for more than seven days beyond the maximum requirement for treatment of any condition."

And that was a line Sheppard could not, and would not, cross. Ever. He let that sink in, feeling his heart sinking with it. "How long?" he finally asked.

Beckett looked to Weir. They both nodded before Beckett spoke up.

"Normally I'd not keep him on a ventilator more than a day, possibly two. But considering the severity of the damage along with the coma, I would say three for treatment. Beyond that is up to his directive and Elizabeth."

Sheppard chewed his lip. "Does it say anything about next of kin contact?"

Elizabeth sighed and sat back. "Yes. He doesn't want them contacted until it's over…one way or the other."

"Because of his father," Sheppard supplied, recalling the Major mentioning his father's death once, and that it had not been quick or easy on his remaining family.

"You won't have to worry about it, John. His directive has other requests of you, should it come to that."

Sheppard just nodded. He knew Lorne had picked the right person for this. For a number of reasons, Elizabeth was suited to the task. Not the least of which was the fact that she would not even hint at bending against Lorne's express personal wishes in something like this, even if Sheppard had wanted to. And he most definitely did not. Giving up on the dark path his thoughts were taking, Sheppard scrubbed his face. At least he'd killed the bastard that had done this to Lorne. At least there was that much justice.

Seeing there was nothing more to be said, he stood to leave. He nodded to both of them, still very somber in their muted glances to one another, and walked away. He didn't even really know where he was going. He was too tired and feeling too heavy to care. Delving into his thoughts, he let his feet take him where they wanted. The sun had already set, and he was feeling more tired than if he'd been going for three days. It wasn't even much past dinner time. Most people were still wandering the city and enjoying their downtime for the night.

Sheppard wasn't sure what he was thinking, or even if he was thinking at this point. Part of this didn't even seem real to him. But he wasn't stupid enough to try deluding himself. It was real, it was too damn frustrating and painful not to be real. As his feet took him along one of the piers further and further away from the populated areas, he let his mind wander as freely as his feet.

Yes, it was painful. But then, being in a command position usually was. He'd had a hand in, directly or indirectly, more deaths than he could keep track of anymore. Making those decisions was just part of the job. It hurt just as much to send a one of the newcomers to their deaths as it would Ronon, Teyla, or even McKay. So that wasn't what was bothering him. But something definitely was. Sure he'd been pissed off. Of course, he'd been pissed at the Genii soldier, at the situation, at himself, even at Lorne. It was just easier to stay focused that way. Now?

 _Nope,_ he thought to himself, standing on the end of the pier with an unobstructed view of the sky and sea.

It hurt, but he wasn't angry. He was tired, but he didn't want to give up on his friend and XO, yet. He was frustrated, but had already accepted this possibility. He stood there, trying to find out why this bothered him so much. He never bothered asking the usual questions. Why him? Why now? What could he have changed? None of those mattered to him, and he already knew the answers.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Sheppard finally figured it had to be the unknown here that was bothering him. A teammate or friend dying of a gunshot wound wasn't always quick, but typically decisive. If the organ damage didn't kill them outright, the bleeding out usually did in fairly short order. Bombs, Wraith feeding, being scooped up by a dart, deadly diseases, and so many other methods of death flashed through Sheppard's mind. He'd seem them all in his career.

But the fact that his friend and SiC was lying in a hospital bed, on life support, in a coma, neither dead nor alive was what was eating away at him. Part of him wanted to crack open a bottle and get on with the tried and true method of Sheppard-style mourning and get it over with. The other half of him wanted to fight. But against what? There was nothing he could aim at. There was no one to blame. There was…nothing.

Turning back toward the night time lit up city, Sheppard finally understood. In a city repopulated after ten thousand years, more alive now than it had been for ten millennia, there was a man up there in the tower hanging somewhere between life and death. Up there people were laughing, talking, singing, loving...just living. And Major Lorne was no longer a part of that, but not completely gone, either. And that left Sheppard uncertain how to feel.

Introspection complete, the Colonel turned his feet back toward the core of the city. He still didn't know what to do about it, if anything. But at least he understood now. Bottling it all up and shoving it back into some dark, undisturbed corner of his mind, he turned his mind back to his life. Because, even though one person's life hung in limbo, it didn't mean he or anyone else was going to get a break from the constant threats from outside.


	4. Ten Days

**Chapter Three**

Ten days.

That was all they had given him. Major Evan Lorne was given ten days to give them some sign that he was coming back from the limbo between life and death. And then they would end all life support. The feeding tube, IV line, and ventilator tube would all be removed. Carson had made it clear from the beginning of all this that it was up to Lorne. But in a few minutes, there wouldn't be even that.

Sheppard's mind was still turning this over in his head when the thoughts were knocked right out of his mind in a brilliant burst of pain as Ronon's wooden sword caught him right across the cheek. Shaking his head to clear away the shock, Sheppard moved his jaw and touched his cheek to make sure nothing ws broken. Ronon stared at him with an inscrutable expression. As the Colonel raised his practice sword again, Ronon turned away.

"You're distracted."

"Maybe a little," Sheppard confessed. "So what?"

"Go to him."

"Excuse me?"

Turning back toward his friend, Ronon planted the tip of the sword on the mat and leaned on it slightly. "You know Beckett and Doctor Weir aren't going to stop you from being there."

Sheppard's expression went flat. Before he could say anything, though, Ronon nodded. He knew he'd hit home.

"Go on. We're done here."

Word had spread throughout the city of Colonel Sheppard's temperament these past few days. If the lack of snarky remarks and sarcastic comebacks hadn't been enough of an indicator, his mercurial mood certainly had been. As had happened on so many other occasions in the last ten days, he was pissed. Throwing down the sword he struggled to control his temper.

"And do what, exactly?" he finally asked Ronon.

"Be with him."

"Sure, I'll just march on in there and hold his hands. Maybe a few tears, y'know. Just to make it look good."

"Whatever you want."

Sheppard raised his hand toward Ronon as if to ward him off. Not trusting his own mouth at the moment, he stormed out. Oh yeah, he was pissed. And Ronon wasn't blind, either. The damn man knew him well enough to understand that the flaring anger was just another way of making the pain easier to bear. Over a week later and he still had not figured out a better way to deal with this unknown. Initially he'd just tried to avoid it, the Major, and the infirmary altogether. But time and again he found his feet taking him there without asking the rest of his mind for permission. Sometimes he would just stand and stare, never coming closer than a few feet to the end of the bed. Other times he would just glance in at the Major's still form as he passed by trying to act as if he hadn't intended to see him in the first place.

Caught up in his thoughts, he tried to find a focus. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to shake the Major and scream at him to wake the fuck up. He wanted to yank out all the cords and tubes and scream at him to just hurry up and die already. He wanted…

One way or another, he just wanted it to be over.

Deliberately changing his direction, Sheppard headed for the infirmary. He'd been there earlier in the day when Carson put out the word city-wide that anyone who wanted to say goodbye to Evan should do so now. Sheppard had bailed. He'd never been good at this shit. Typically he would get trashed, and then get on with life. He would just put away the emotions and memories, and bury them so deep he'd never have to deal with them again. Then he'd add an extra layer of protection in the form of a mask of bored self-interest, or outright recklessness. He'd always kept a wide distance between himself and anyone even hinting at an emotional display.

And this had been no exception.

But Ronon had been right. He did want to be there. He knew damn good and well that neither Elizabeth nor Carson would keep him out of there when they pulled the plug. And Sheppard knew he wouldn't interfere. When it came to a directive, he wasn't even going to consider it. He believed a man had the right to determine his treatment and death. Most weren't so lucky as to be able to pick the method of their passing. Lorne had chosen his time; and now Weir and Beckett would see it done. But he was through feeling like he was the one hanging in some sort of hellish emotional limbo. He was just done.

Silently he entered what now qualified as Lorne's personal niche of ICU. Weir stood on one side of the bed as Beckett was removing tubes from the other side. Neither noticed as Sheppard took his stance and crossed his arms. He watched Beckett's utterly emotionless face telling him all he needed to know about how much the doctor hated this part of his job. Weir did the same, but with a hint of sadness. Not bothering to hide whatever the hell expression he had, Sheppard watched. Beckett had already removed the IV and was in the process of removing the feeding tube. He took his time, moving slowly and carefully. But Sheppard wasn't fooled. He knew this was Carson's way of procrastinating.

Carson had done everything by the book. Lorne, despite the EEG activity, had only minimal responses to any test stimuli. By Beckett's estimate, and that of their resident neurologist, Doctor Wilkins, Lorne had a twenty-five percent chance or less of coming out of the coma. It was far more likely he would be classified as someone in a persistent vegetative state. Sheppard had refused to accept that. But here they were. And all he could do was watch.

They still hadn't noticed him as Carson extubated Lorne. But Sheppard kept perfectly still as he watched. He wondered, briefly if either Weir or Beckett had noticed they were holding their breath. But, as the Major's chest continued to rise and fall without the help of the ventilator, they both bore twin looks of thin lipped displeasure. They both knew what it meant. Now they would essentially leave Lorne to either starve to death or die of dehydration. Either way, his wishes had been fulfilled.

 _Damn that man,_ Sheppard thought viciously, lowering his head for a moment.

Opening his eyes, he realized he'd finally been spotted. As Weir and Beckett turned to leave, there was no missing the Colonel. For a moment it looked like Carson was going to say something, but apparently the look in Sheppard's eyes changed his mind. Instead the two of them nodded as they left the ICU. Sheppard did exactly the opposite. From along a nearby wall he grabbed a chair. Setting it beside the Major's bed, he sat down. If this was how it was going to be, then he was going to see it through. Beckett had done his part, up to this point. Weir had done her part, and would continue to do so until it was no longer in her hands. There was nothing for him to do, and that burned inside him worse than the loss, even.

"You know what, Evan? You're a real pain the in ass," Sheppard finally said, not even sure why the hell he was talking to what was essentially a corpse that just didn't know it was dead yet.

And yet, he could hear his friend's response in his head.

 _Why thank you, sir. Pleasure to serve._

That made him grin. Yeah, that was definitely the response he would have given, if not worse. "You never make things easy, do you?"

 _Not if I can help it, sir._

Scowling now, he continued, "Well I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not saying goodbye. So you do what you gotta do. Just hurry it up, okay? I've got a city to run."

 _Yes, sir._ Sheppard could see the cheeky grin with dimples and all.

"Yes, sir," he murmured in echo, lost in the memory of what brought them to this.

~o~o~o~

Beckett stood around the corner and watched for a moment. In his career here in Atlantis and on Earth, he'd seen this before. He was not surprised, even if it was Sheppard. Everyone had their own way of dealing. And everyone had their own way of saying goodbye, even if it meant not saying it. He may hate what he had to do, even if the choice wasn't his in the first place. But he hated more what he saw it do to friends and loved ones.

Heaving a sigh, he turned back to the rest of his duties; because the world went on anyway.

~o~o~o~

The next morning Weir found Sheppard still sitting there beside the Major's bed in silence. It was clear he'd not slept. Part of her wanted to say something, possibly even to the effect of neglecting his duties, as it seemed he wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. But she just didn't have the heart for it. Instead she turned and went back to her own duties, hoping to find a way to cover the Colonel until this was over.

~o~o~o~

They all came. One by one. He could see them in his peripheral vision. He didn't know what they thought, and he really didn't care. None of them approached him or the Major, and that was just fine with him. Aside from that first, brief conversation he'd had with Lorne when he started this vigil, he'd been silent. He was waiting for it to be over. It didn't matter to him which way it fell anymore, he just wanted it to be over.

He stayed the entire first afternoon, evening, and well into the night. Eventually his body forced him to get food. Even then, it was a quick trip to the mess hall and back. When he came back he found he'd had to retrieve his chair from outside again. Planting himself in it again, he sat to waiting. From time to time random thoughts or memories of Lorne would surface. He let them play themselves out. There would be plenty of time to mentally pack them away forever once this was finished.

Somewhere during the night, he was certain he'd dozed off. He couldn't remember actually sleeping, but possibly somewhere between exploring a memory and noticing Lorne's eyes opened again he might have slept some. It didn't really matter. He could sleep later, in his own bed. For a couple of minutes he watched as Lorne's empty blue eyes roamed around the room.

"Do you have any idea just how creepy that is?"

Instead of the expected answer in his head, Sheppard's felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as those eyes fixed on him and stayed there. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until he let it out when Lorne blinked. He was still staring; those blue eyes seeming anchored to him.

"Evan?" he asked before he even realized he'd opened his mouth.

Though his mouth didn't move, Lorne gave a sort of growling moan. It was almost like he was trying to talk. Sheppard thought he was going to crawl out of his skin at the freaky sound. Worse, he could almost swear there had been something there; something more than mindless reflexive motions. After the initial stutter, his heart began to race. He was about to holler for the nearest doctor when Lorne's eyes closed again.

It was like a spell being broken. Shaking his head, Sheppard came back to his senses. Beckett had warned him, and he'd seen it for himself enough times. It was common for comatose patients to react to sound involuntarily. Grunts, groans, muscle spasms, eye movements, it was all the same. None of it was intelligent responses. Lorne was already gone. They were just waiting on his body to die so they could perform the usual funeral rights.

Viciously crushing the spark of hope that had threatened to form, he sat back in the chair, chewing his lip. He started to rethink this whole vigil thing. He was already frayed to the breaking point, if his conversation with Ronon had been any indication. Adding to that the fact that he hadn't slept well in over a week, and now he was seeing things; things he wanted to see, obviously.

"You are such a pain in the ass," he repeated, this time not lightly.


	5. The Vigil

**Chapter Four**

This type of occurrence happened several more times over the next two days of his vigil. Aside from very brief breaks to take care of minimum requirements, Sheppard continued his vigil. The grunts, movements, eye wandering, and other things continued. But they seemed to become more and more frequent; and lasted for increasingly longer periods of time. Whereas before his eyes would only be open for a couple of minutes, sometimes they would be open for many minutes now. Often they settled on Sheppard and would stay there, even when he didn't speak to Lorne.

He refused to believe. He refused to let that initial spark of hope formulate. The doctors made their usual rounds, including Beckett, and none of them saw anything different. Nor did they say anything. So Sheppard convinced himself he was reading too much into it. Beckett must have seen something in his expression at one point, though; because he patted Sheppard on the shoulder in an attempt at silent comfort as he turned to leave.

Not able to shake the feeling, though, Sheppard found himself timing them by the third day. As evening rolled around he was certain. Lorne was active more than not, now; and for longer periods of time. But he didn't dare tell Carson or the others. Not yet. It was stupid enough he thought what he was thinking, he wasn't about to let someone else get their hopes up.

This time Lorne's eyes had roamed around for less than a minute before fixing on him. Sheppard could see something in those eyes. They weren't as empty, he thought. Cursing himself for his stupidity in even thinking that much, he stood up. The eyes followed. Stepping up to the side of the bed, he stared down right into those eyes. Lorne made a sort of hissing sound; but not anything even remotely intelligible. Gripping the bed rails to cover his shaking hands, Sheppard scowled down at his friend.

"You are the biggest pain in the ass I've ever known, Evan. And I mean it. This better be for real, or I'll kill you myself," he threatened half-heartedly in a voice just above a whisper, his mouth dry.

Another grunt. Continued staring.

"If you understand me blink."

Lorne blinked.

"Blink three times."

Lorne blinked three times.

Sheppard felt the blood drain from his face. "Son of a bitch…Can you move anything?"

Another moan, but Lorne's arm twitched just slightly.

His heart racing Sheppard reached down with one shaking hand to grip Lorne's cold one. "Squeeze my hand."

The fingers twitched a couple of times.

Using his free hand, Sheppard keyed on his radio. He didn't dare leave, even to fetch a doctor. "Colonel Sheppard for Doctor Beckett."

"Beckett here. Go ahead, Colonel."

"Get in here."

Sheppard could hear the sigh. "On my way. Beckett out."

His eyes still locked one Lorne's he said, "If you fall back asleep now, I'll shoot you."

Lorne blinked twice, a muscle on the left of his face twitching slightly.

A few second later, Beckett came around the corner. He watched for a moment, his expression sorrowful. "Colonel, I explained involuntary—"

"Involuntary my ass. Come here."

Heaving another sad sigh, Beckett complied.

"Blink three times again, Evan," Sheppard instructed.

He did.

Carson frowned. "Major, if you understand, close your eyes and leave them closed until I speak again."

He did.

"Good God…" The blood drained from his face as he turned to Sheppard. "How long?"

"Five, maybe ten minutes, now."

Beckett reached down and squeezed Lorne's left hand. "Can you feel that?"

Lorne moaned, and blinked several times.

Carson moved lower and gripped Lorne's leg. "Can you feel this?"

Nothing. The eyes moved back to Sheppard.

Beckett moved lower and uncovered Lorne's feet. Whatever he did down there had him frowning in consideration. He moved up the Major's other side and gripped or pinched various places. When he was within visual range, Lorne would watch him instead of Sheppard. By the time Carson finished his exam, he was just as convinced. Lorne had, near the end, fallen asleep. His hands shoved into his lab coat pockets, Beckett seemed deep in thought. And they weren't good thoughts.

"Well? What is it, Doc?"

Sheppard's voice seemed to startle him out of his thoughts. His lips were a thin line as he bit back whatever it was he was initially going to say. "I need to speak with Doctor Weir."

"What?"

"Excuse me, Colonel," Beckett said, brushing past him and out of the room.

"Carson, what the hell?"

Sheppard gritted his teeth as Carson just kept walking. For a moment, he wanted to follow. But he knew he had no right. Fuming, he sat back down in the chair.

~o~o~o~

"And you're convinced?" Weir asked, already knowing the answer.

"Aye."

Weir stared down at her hands folded on the desk. Her lips thinned as she thought furiously. Finally she cocked her head and asked, "How could you _and_ Doctor Wilkins have been so wrong?"

Beckett was not ashamed to admit his mistake. "I don't know. But with more time and testing, we can find out. I suspect there may have been more spinal damage, though. He may be paralyzed below the point of impact. In which case, some of our tests came out a false negative."

He watched silently as she wrestled a decision that was never easy, even with experience. And the fact that Lorne had regained consciousness only complicated matters, rather than making them easier. If it hadn't been for Sheppard's observation, the Major likely would have slipped away quietly over the next few days to a week without fluids, at the very least to sustain him. Leaning forward, Beckett put his hand on hers comfortingly.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I can only give advice. The decision has to be yours."

Frowning, Weir shook her head. "No. If he's regained as much of his mental faculties as you suspect, the decision is still his."

"But—"

"No, Carson. I need to speak with him."

"Aye, I understand," he said with a sigh. "I don't know when he'll wake again or for how long. Sheppard says he's been waking more frequently and for longer time periods."

"I'll come down there now. I take it John's not going anywhere?"

Carson shook his head.

Standing up, Weir seemed to mentally steel herself for what she was certain to be a fight. She hated herself for what she was likely going to have to do to the Colonel, but this had to Lorne's decision, or hers, and no one else's. Heaving a sigh, she followed Beckett back to the infirmary.

~o~o~o~

Sitting there fuming, waiting for Lorne to wake up again, it didn't take Sheppard long to figure out what was going on. Aside from updating Weir on Lorne's status, Beckett had gone to get her decision. She was still the Major's proxy. And, ultimately, it was her decision on whether or not to resume any kind of life support. By the time Elizabeth and Carson appeared, Sheppard had already beat himself up inside badly enough he didn't need it from anyone else. He already knew he would never interfere in a man's advanced directive. But the idea that Lorne was coming back, that he'd done the impossible and still might not be able to live was enough to make Sheppard want to shoot himself in the foot for ever getting involved.

Trying to cover any traces of his earlier thoughts, Sheppard forced himself to calm. Weir, on the other hand, did exactly the opposite. Her green eyes bored into his as she marched right up to him.

"Colonel, you know why I'm here?"

"Yes."

"Just so we're clear. I can order you out of this room. So I'm only going to say this once. I want to talk to Major Lorne. I want to know what his decision is. But it will be a fully informed decision, as much as I can convey. Unless I have reason to believe he doesn't have the mental capacity to understand, it will be his decision. I will not have you influencing it. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Sheppard watched her expression relax. "I'm sorry, John. I—"

He shook his head, cutting her off with, "Don't, Elizabeth. This is exactly why Evan chose you."

Weir nodded sadly. Sheppard motioned to his chair as he stepped outside to grab another one.

"We may be waiting a while," Carson explained. "Would either of you care for some coffee?"

"Yes, please," Weir said, as Sheppard nodded.

The three sat in silence. It was nearly two hours before Lorne woke again. Sheppard was the first to notice the subtle change in his friend's breathing that usually preceded the eye movements before. Setting his cup on a bedside tray, he stood up. Almost as soon as he approached the bed, Lorne's eyes opened. His facial muscles twitched, almost as if he was trying to frown or smile or give some sort of expression. But what it was, Sheppard couldn't tell.

"Heya, buddy. You've got more visitors. Elizabeth wants to talk to you. I'll, um, just leave you to it."

Backing off, Sheppard moved as far away as he could so as not to hear, but still be able watch. Even with what he knew it would cost him, he was going to be here with Lorne no matter what his decision. Carson stood beside him. There was no need for words. All they could do was as they had done. Wait.

~o~o~o~

Trying to control her racing heart, Weir leaned over the edge of the bed staring down into those blue eyes. They still seemed glazed, and a bit distant, but they were definitely focused on her.

"Major Lorne, I know you can't speak right now, but I have to talk to you. I want you to blink twice for yes, and three times for no. Do you understand?"

Two blinks.

Finally she gave in to a small smile. "Good. Major, do you remember your advanced directive?"

Two blinks.

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

Two binks.

"You were in a coma due to cardiac arrest causing a temporary lack of oxygen to the brain. Carson says that a coma is not uncommon after such occurrences. Per your directive, all life support was removed three days ago. Do you understand?"

Two blinks.

"Carson and a neurosurgeon estimated you had a less than twenty-five percent chance of emerging from the coma. But they did not take into account the paralysis. Do you remember being unable to feel part of your body?"

Two blinks.

Weir nodded. "At this point we need to revise the earlier estimates of your possible recovery. Carson says not being able to speak, loss of motor control, and other issues may be temporary. But what is or is not temporary we won't know without further time and testing. Do you understand?"

Two blinks.

"Major, per your instructions I've not yet notified your family. Since you appear to understand and are able to communicate, I leave this decision to you. We can leave you off life support and make you comfortable until the end. Or we can resume life support and find out the extent of the damage. Do you understand?"

Two blinks.

"Do you want time to decide?"

Nothing. Though the muscles in his face were flaccid, Weir could almost imagine what was going through his head. Instead he closed his eyes tightly, obviously wrestling with this decision. Though she gave no outward indication, her heart was breaking for him. On one hand he might make a full recovery. On the other, he might try to recover only to find himself crippled in more ways than one.

His head moved just slightly as he opened his eyes and then blinked three times.

"Do you want to resume life support?"

Two blinks.

Weir didn't miss the tear that leaked out of the man's eyes. She knew he was terrified. This was an all or nothing. Once they resumed any kind of life support, anything regrets he had became null. Anything else would be considered suicide; and, if he's too crippled, even that might not be an option for him. She had no idea how he felt about suicide, but she knew he wasn't going to give up without a fight.

With a gentle smile, she wiped away his tears so the others wouldn't see. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Two blinks.

Nodding, she said, "I promise, we'll do everything we can to help you. No matter what happens, Atlantis is still your home, Major."

Lorne blinked several more times as a few more tears leaked out. His head twitched slightly, though is facial muscles never moved. Again, she wiped them away to preserve his dignity. She imagined she could see the gratitude in those terrified blue eyes. She squeezed his shoulder comfortingly one more time.

Standing up straighter, she turned to Sheppard and Beckett. Seeing their tension, she gave them a brief smile and nod. They exactly mirrored each other as the tension seemed to flow right out of them. Both gave return smiles.

"I'm going to get what I need. Why don't you keep him company?" Beckett suggested to Sheppard.

"Sure thing, Doc." Raising his voice so Lorne could hear as he headed back toward the bed, "Besides, I've got a bone to pick with this guy. Not only is he a world-class pain in the ass, but this is a hell of a way to try to get out of paying up the beer he owes me."

With his usual jaunty grin firmly in place, he looked back down at his friend. "Yeah, and by the way, Ronon beat Keane to the DHD. Just so we're clear."

Lorne's face twitched again in what Sheppard guessed an involuntary attempt at a smile. The Major's eyes were still shimmering slightly with the unshed tears, but they seemed to be drying up quickly. Ignoring this, Sheppard glanced around to make sure he hadn't drawn too much attention. Leaning down slightly so no one else would over hear, he whispered to the Major.

"You know, it's probably not appropriate in any way shape or form to threaten bodily harm or homicide in the infirmary. So I'll say this just the once, if you ever scare me like that again, Evan, I'll kick your ass, and then I'll kill you."

Lorne blinked several times in what he could only guess was either a laugh or some cheeky comeback. Yes, his friend was definitely back, or mostly, anyway.

"Welcome back, Major."


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Has anyone ever mentioned that Atlantis was so not made for wheelchairs?" Lorne griped.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice," Sheppard said, stepping along happily beside the Major as they finally managed to get to the lower section of the gate room after a long, roundabout path. "Quit whining. You'll be back on Earth in a few minutes."

"Whining, sir?"

"Yes, I said 'whining'. Besides, you could have just gotten up on those shaky kitten legs of yours and—"

"Kitten legs?!" Lorne said, practically screeching his wheelchair to a halt to turn and face his CO. "Just wait until I get back, sir. We'll meet up in Sparring Room Six and I'll plant a boot up your—"

"Now is that any way to talk to your CO?"

"You started it!"

"I did not!"

"Oh yes you did! You said—"

"Boys! Boys!" Weir called, interrupting their banter with a grin. "Play nice."

Looking at each other, the two men laughed heartily at the realization of exactly how childish they had both just sounded. But God it felt good. Sheppard put Lorne's bag in his lap carefully, eyeing it to make sure it wouldn't fall off.

"Better watch out, Doctor Weir, I won't be around to keep him in line for a couple of months. You sure you don't want me to send someone in my place for a while?" he asked, smiling up at her.

Weir returned the smile, remembering that not that long ago she thought she'd never see those dimples again. "No, thank you Major. Tempting as that may be, I don't believe anyone else could accomplish it."

"Good, cause I'm not in the mood to break in another XO. I just got this one trained properly," Sheppard added.

Lorne just grunted, shaking his head in amusement.

"Colonel Caldwell radioed ahead on his return trip to confirm, Major. The SGC has made arrangements for your transportation back to San Francisco and your sister will be waiting for you at the airport."

"Thanks, I…"

Lorne trailed off as he caught sight of the three men coming up behind Weir. Throwing a dirty look at Sheppard, he sighed in resignation. Sheppard chuckled but threw his hands up in a gesture of innocence.

"You didn't really think we were going to let you just sneak off, did you, sir?" Lieutenant Keane asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Especially since you wouldn't let us put racing stripes on your hot rod, there," Lieutenant Shingleton added.

"I wouldn't exactly call this 'sneaking'. And you know the stripes would have just baited the Colonel over there into another race."

"That's kinda the point, sir," Lieutenant Cayton pointed out from directly behind Lorne.

Feeling Cayton doing something to his wheelchair, Lorne tried to turn around. "What are you doing? Knock that off!"

"Nothing, sir," Cayton said, coming around to join the others.

Lorne's glare at the three members of his team screamed bullshit, especially when Sheppard tried to cover a chuckle. Leaning back and craning his neck, he caught sight of the black and white checkered racing flag now sticking up from the back of his chair.

"Really, guys?"

"Hey, it suits you," Sheppard commented. "And you earned it."

"Besides, sir, it's only right to give fair warning to others," Shingleton added, failing miserably at trying to be serious.

Major Lorne just shook his head in bemusement. Yes, he was definitely going to miss these guys. He might be spending a couple of months in rehab while staying with his family on Earth, but these guys were the other half of his family. And Atlantis was, without a doubt, his real home now. While Weir signaled for the dial, Lorne shook their hands one more time. They watched as he rolled off through the gate with one last wave over his shoulder.

Sheppard couldn't help but think with a sense of horror what Atlantis would be like without his XO. Well, for the next few months he'd just have to deal. In the meantime, he would come up with new and inventive ways to ensure the Major Lorne didn't wind up wandering off or something. Then again, the man was likely overdue for his promotion…


End file.
